Legacy

chapter Three


“I told you to sit on the bed,” Bahlin muttered. My eyelids were fluttering, trying to grab hold of a good opportunity to open. “Bloody woman, crashing to floor with every shock. You’ll never survive this…”

“Yes, I will,” I whispered in an obstinate voice. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t manage. You don’t know me.” I focused on his face, seeing the dark blue of his eyes once again.

He grinned down at me. It was then that I realized I was lying in his arms and across his lap. I started to make efforts to get up, but he held me down easily.

“Rest a moment, Maddy.”

His skin was firm and hot, but not scaly like I would have expected following that little conversational sideshow. He was tanned, though, in a country where the sun only showed its face every fourth day. His eyes shown with a faint inner light that made me a little dizzy, and I wondered what he was trying to do.

“No mind games,” I said, my voice sounding disturbingly far away.

“So you know a bit about dragons,” he said, smiling. “Remind me to send Laurell K. Hamilton a thank-you note. Look, you’ve had a great many shocks in twenty-four hours, sweetheart. I can ease some of the stress if you’ll only relax and let me in your mind.” He stroked my forehead with two fingertips and my headache was almost instantly gone. Now that was a handy trick.

“Laurell K. doesn’t write about dragons.” I held up a hand weakly. “Question?”

He inclined his head, still grinning albeit less toothy than before my recent lights out episode.

“How can you be a dragon and a regular man?”

“Don’t ever mistake me for a regular man,” he said seriously. “I am a dragon first and always, but all dragons have an alternate human form.”

“If you say so. What do you mean I need to relax my mind?” My breathing was still shallow, so I made a concerted effort to slow down and take deeper breaths. He hadn’t hurt me yet. I was having such a hard time holding on to the thread of conversation, like more than one thought was too much to process. Maybe he was right and I was in shock. If so, at least it didn’t hurt. And really, shock was about the only explanation for the fact that I hadn’t become either wholly catatonic or completely hysterical at this point.

“You need to put down your natural barriers to my kind. It’s a predetermined defense for Niteclifs, as it helps to keep a wide variety of supes from toying with your mind. But you can control it or you should be able to with some practice.” He palmed the back of my head and turned it so I looked up into his face. “Right now, though, you’re locked tight as a bank vault. It’s how you’ve spanked me regarding telling you first to open the door and later to stop fighting. It’s impressive in one so young into the Change.” He grinned, gently squeezing my head. It felt good.

“Why does the Change sound so ominous?” I have to admit I enjoyed the eased headache. Maybe he would be handy to keep around for a while. He was better than ibuprofen. And think, if I locked my keys in my car, he could automatically unlock it for me. No need for Triple A. I giggled. A dragon public service.

“Maddy?” Bahlin looked down at me. “I don’t believe you’re going to have any choice but to let me help with the shock.”

I guess my mental shields, or whatever it was keeping Bahlin out, were weakened by the night’s revelations because he suddenly rolled over my mind like a wave coming into shore, crashing down and spreading through the sand. I had flashes of memories, both his and mine, and it was his memory of my great-grandfather that surprised me the most. I tried to hold on to it, but it was like trying to hold water in your hands—it slips away, and you’re left with a memory. From him I got the impression of great affection and then it was gone. His darker memories, things that had nothing to do with me, moved away from my consciousness like mist and I couldn’t hold on to them either. I had a vague impression of Bahlin meditating and coming into my dreams, and an image of my own where I was standing at the stones. It was all so strange.

I came to, if that’s what you could call it, with Bahlin holding me close to his chest, his head bent over mine, foreheads touching. It was as intimate as a kiss, this sharing of memories.

“So.” I cleared my throat to get his attention.

He lifted his head slowly and opened eyes that glowed a rich, icy blue. His breathing changed as if he were drawing in great lungs full of my scent.

I briefly wondered what he had seen in my pathetic life that had wound him up so badly. “So…can you please let me go?”

He stared at me for a moment and then seemed to shake from head to toe, like a dog exiting a body of water, bringing himself back into the moment. He stood effortlessly with me still in his arms and set me on the bed. His strength was amazing, and the fact that he made me feel petite was a total bonus. Not that I noticed too much.

“I apologize,” he said.

“The trip through our minds thing, is that something you normally do for people…supes…whatever?” I asked.

“Ah, no, no it’s not. It takes a lot out of me to sift through someone’s mind and—”

“What do you mean by that? What did you see?” I demanded, hands involuntarily parking on my hips. I know it looked silly since I was sitting, but I couldn’t figure out how else to express my indignance at his statement and if I stood it would put me too close to him.

“About the interrupting? It really is annoying. I’ll quit if you do.” He seemed a little bit unstable as he stood in front of me. He turned and stepped around the end of the bed, walking to the desk chair and eased himself, carefully, back down. “My stones are probably black and blue, you know. You pack a mighty punch.” He grinned.

“Stop changing the subject, Bahlin. What did you see in my mind?”

He sighed, but he met my eyes with his own. “Grief. Your grief over the loss of your parents is profound. It’s been a very long time since I’ve experienced such a raw emotion.”

I stared at him, uncertain what to say. My grief was such a private thing that I felt like I’d been violated. At the same time, I wasn’t sure how he could have taken a skip through my mental daisies without stepping in it at every stride. I knew my grief seemed to permeate every aspect of my life, so it only made sense that my thoughts weren’t immune.

“I apologize if you feel I was out of line. I had no way of avoiding it.” Sincerity poured off him, and I believed him but it still stung. Besides, I couldn’t argue as I’d just thought the same thing.

“No problem,” I said softly. “Just do me a favor and don’t make a big deal out of it, please.”

“Done.” He shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. I must have really done some direct damage to make him so uncomfortable.

“I, ah, apologize for…well, smacking you in the…” I stumbled across the apology, and he smiled, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth. Or maybe that was my imagination.

“In the…?” he prompted, making me blush. “So that part was true, then.” He seemed thrilled.

“What part?” I asked, hoping we had skipped over the apology. No such luck.

“Apologies first, sweetheart. You’re sorry for smacking me in the what, Maddy?” he prompted, undeterred. He seemed to be getting his kicks out of this.

“The burgeoning manliness that your nether regions represent,” I said, affecting a strong southern accent.

He laughed out loud, a full, rich sound that made me shiver. “I thought you said you didn’t read romance novels.”

“I had one forgettable adventure with that type of novel, and it was so generally bad that I had to put it down. Now I stick to the darker stuff. Or I did…” I fumbled the end of the speech, lost, and Bahlin looked almost sad at that little revelation.

I thought about what he’d told me so far and I wondered, What would my life be like now? Who would I be now that I had all this information? I fervently hoped bad romance novels wouldn’t figure in anywhere. At the same time, I had read some Holmes novels and I was worried at the potential for violence and death as more than fiction. I didn’t truly know what I wanted in that moment, so I tucked it away to examine later, in private.

“Now,” I said, getting back to the conversation, “what part of what you saw are you glad is true and why did it make you so happy?” I’m nothing if not indefatigable.

“Did you expect me to follow that?” he asked incredulously.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Now give.”

“It should be noted that it disturbs me that I understand you,” he muttered. “Fine. The part of your mind that told me you’re inexperienced with men, though not quite a virgin.”

I blushed so hard I felt light-headed, and he laughed.

“Charming,” he said softly, looking at me with hooded eyes.

“Get that idea right out of your head, Bahlin. I’ve had a couple of wholly forgettable experiences that…wait. Why in the world am I telling you this?” I threw my hands in the air and dropped them on top of my head, eyes closed as I regrouped. “Forget it. I want to talk about my great-granddad and this curse.”

He sat up straight in his chair. “It’s not a curse, Maddy.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was indignant. “It’s an honor as well as an obligation.”

My mind pinged all over the place. I couldn’t seem to stick to any one topic, mentally or out loud, for any length of time. I was suddenly back to the statement he’d made about the obligation being a ten-year minimum commitment. How was I going to be able to keep up with my Visa payment if I couldn’t get a job outside of this detective work? I had my inheritance, but that was my nest egg and it wouldn’t last forever or, realistically, even ten years. And how was I going to be a detective, by default a fact-finder, when half the time I couldn’t find my own car keys? A little voice in my head reminded me about my earlier use of modus ponens and the impressive fact that I had had any idea what that was. Twenty-four hours ago I probably wouldn’t have been able to give you the definition much less put it into general practice. But now? It was something I’d have to live by if I wanted to make this work. And did I? Want to make this work, that is? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know if there was a choice to be made. But after my little mind swap with Bahlin, I somehow believed him.

“What skills did I inherit?” I asked.

“Pardon?” he said, all polite innocence now.

“You said earlier, before I hit the floor, that there were certain skills a Niteclif would inherit to make the job easier. What are they?”

“So you’ll do it?” His eyes shone more than they should in the lamplight, that inner light sparkling like sunlight behind stained glass.

“Doesn’t sound like I have a choice, does it, if every third generation has to pick up the mantle of service?” I felt slightly resentful that my life was about to be overrun. I also felt slightly giddy about the same thing. I wanted and had asked for something profoundly different, a change, an altered reality. Apparently that wish had been granted in spades. And I couldn’t have excluded this as an option when I made the wish because I’d had no idea something like this was remotely possible.

“There’s always a choice, Maddy. But if you refuse it, then the family history stops here.”

His answer sounded ominous.

“What do you mean?”

He slid lower in his seat and laced his fingers together over his hard abs. “There are no other children, so you’re it. No one else can pick up the mantle of servitude to the supernatural community. It means that chaos will reign and justice won’t be meted out fairly.”

“And what happens in between generations when no one takes responsibility for this job?” I asked, making little finger quotes.

He steepled his fingers together, putting his elbows on the chair’s arms, and sighed. “The High Council hands down rulings and enforces sentences, but like your political systems, it’s not without its own forms of influence and corruption.”

I scooted on the bed so that my back was against the headboard, tucking my legs under me.

“So how do I change that?”

“Niteclif word is taken as general law. You are the ultimate voice for justice, and you are deferred to in all investigations. Your findings may be challenged by either the guilty party or any member of the High Council, but Niteclif logic has never failed.”

“Ever?”

“Never, Maddy.” Bahlin’s eyes narrowed as he watched for my reaction.

My mouth was suddenly dry, and I couldn’t generate enough spit to even swallow. No pressure. Then Bahlin looked at me, and that look from earlier passed over his face. There was something he wasn’t telling me.

“Spill it, dragon,” I said, getting a weird rush from calling out his species name.

“What?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re withholding. You’ve made your plea for me to take the job. You’ve spelled out the most basic foundation in the history of job descriptions for me. But you’ve got tells. Your eyes get tight, giving your perfect visage little lines at the corner.” I looked him over carefully and girded my mental loins. “Your eyes drift to the left, just over my shoulder, and you answer whatever I’ve asked without looking at me. You put your feet flat on the floor. You get preternaturally still in all other ways. Oh, and your head turns to the left, but only a bit.” Huh? Man, I was good, and I hadn’t even tried. Maybe I could do this.

He dropped his hands and, if a dragon could gape, he gaped. “Amazing,” he muttered. “No one’s called me on those points since Aloysius.”

And then it dawned on me: Bahlin being here when I arrived at the hotel. Bahlin leaving a note for me. Bahlin invading my dream. Bahlin being relentless in his delivery of my family history. Bahlin’s intimate knowledge of my great-granddad. It suddenly all made sense.

“You were his sidekick,” I yelled. “You’re Watson!”

“No need to yell,” he said on a sigh. “Yes, I was. And yes, I am.”



I stared at Bahlin, amazed at him. He was incredibly attractive, unarguably intelligent, and way older than I had estimated. Not early thirties by a long, long, long shot.

“I made a promise to Aloysius when he left his term that I would become the guardian of whoever took up the Niteclif service.” Clearly resigned to his personal history having been outed, Bahlin wasn’t remiss to speak. “By the way, you’re the first person to make the connection between the fictional character and the man for either Aloysius or myself.”

I wasn’t so sure about the man comment. I didn’t know enough about dragon mythology to know what they considered themselves. A different species? A sub-group? Humans with extra options, like a car with a sunroof and GPS?

I sat there looking at this creature in the chair opposite my seat on the bed, and I felt a strange empathy for him. He’d made a promise to someone he had obviously cared about, and he was bound and determined to keep it. But he’d given me an out, an opportunity to turn away from family history and obligation and he would honor my wishes. I don’t know why, but this touched me. Was it his selflessness in the dereliction of a promised duty or the fact that he cared enough about the Niteclif name to want the legacy to continue? The word honorable whispered through my mind.

“How does it work if I accept the ten-year, uh, sentence?” I asked.

He never moved, never blinked, just stared straight at me, his mouth mostly hidden behind his resteepled fingers. It was like he was making a concerted effort to not reveal any of his thoughts now that I’d pointed out his little tells. I stared harder.

“Exactly how old are you?” he finally asked.

“Twenty-eight.”

He sighed, dropping his arms to rest on the chair’s arms. “The ten years generally begins when you turn thirty, but the catalyst of your family tree’s revelation has already occurred. So, to be perfectly honest, I don’t know when your ten-year sentence,” he made little finger quotes, “would begin. Possibly upon acceptance, possibly when you turned thirty.”

“I don’t suppose there’s enough empirical evidence to make an educated decision,” I mumbled. I flinched, and knew then that I was wrong. The decision wasn’t mine to make any more than it was to decline. I was already speaking in detective-ese. Fate had made me her bitch. Great.

Bahlin saw my flinch and leaned forward, dropping his forearms to his knees. He looked up at me as I was sitting on the tall bed, putting me a full head and shoulders above him. I could see his mind working, and it was evident he came to the same conclusion I did.

He stood, total grace in motion, and said, “Shall we go down to the lobby restaurant and get you something to eat or would you prefer to order something from room service?”

My stomach growled loudly at the promise of food. I hadn’t eaten in more than thirty-six hours.

“About that,” I began, then paused, unsure how to broach the tactless subject of money. I slid off the bed, the satin sheets sliding with me in a quiet hiss of noise. Bahlin deftly picked up the fallen bed linens and tossed them carelessly on the bed.

“Yes? You have a preference regarding your meal?”

“No, not really. It’s just, this hotel was my one splurge. I’m here for a week, but I’m assuming I’ll have to find somewhere to stay for the remaining three weeks while I work out how I’m going to fulfill whatever my duties are from the United States. Look, I don’t know a delicate way to say this…”

“For the love of this country’s Queen, woman. Spit it out.”

“Can the attitude, Bahlin.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leveled my best hard stare at him. “I can’t afford to live large because you decide you want room service or whatever. I have limited funds, I’ve quit my job and I refuse to use my retirement account to fund this psychotic side trip.”

He gaped at me, the second time in less than an hour. I was betting that this was a personal best for him because he didn’t seem like the type to gape at all. “Maddy, there are things we need to discuss. I’d prefer to do them in public so that you don’t crack my jaw again or render me a eunuch. So we’ll do it in the dining room. Dinner’s on me.”

I was immediately defensive. “I don’t do charity. I can swing dinner, surely, but you need to know where I’m coming from.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll talk about it over a nice red. Consider it a job perk.”

“Stop calling me sweetheart,” I muttered, moving past him and reaching for my sneakers. I slid my feet into the shoes and stood, finding myself face to face with him. I could smell his cologne again. It was the same as in the dream—both sunshine and moonlight, clean air after a rainstorm and something beneath it that was all Bahlin. No matter where in the world I ended up, the smell would always remind me of him. Wondering at my moroseness, I turned toward the door and he followed close behind. He reached around me and grabbed my room key before I could reach for it, his speed impressive.

“Show off.”

He laughed and reached around me again to open the door. Stupid dragon hearing.

It was going to be a long night.



We rode the elevator down in silence and stepped out into the lobby. Tonight it was busier, with men in suits and women dressed from semi-formal to formal roaming about. I suddenly realized I was miserably underdressed and hunched my shoulders defensively, worried about standing out.

“What’s the matter?” Bahlin asked. He put his hand on the small of my back and directed me with the slightest pressure toward the restaurant. I could feel his fingertips like a brand, and I fought the urge to rub against his hand like a cat. Instead I arched my back away from him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” My voice was caustic. “You’ve encouraged me to come to dinner in the Friday night equivalent of my jammies. Why would that bother me?”

He chuckled, dark and sexy. “I’m in jeans and sneakers. Not to worry.” He winked at me. “I think they’ll let us in.” Bahlin approached the tuxedo-clad maitre d’, and without a word the man picked up a pair of menus, pulled open the heavy doors and escorted us into the quiet hush of the restaurant. He led us straight to a private booth in the back without any verbal exchange, which I found odd given the foot traffic in the lobby. The booth was a high back, deep cognac leather and the table was the same mahogany color as the wood in the lobby. The walls were a gray so dark they seemed to absorb the light offered by the individual chandelier over our table and the candles held in the wall sconces. There were sliding brocade curtains to close off private booths intimately, lending a false air of privacy to the seating arrangement. It was romantic and slightly eerie at the same time. In fact, the vibe the place gave off left me with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched, and it took all my self-control not to rub the back of my neck in an attempt to dispel the feeling. I didn’t like that the entire encounter with Bahlin left me jittery with nerves. Maybe food would help.

“I guess the hotel likes its color schemes universal,” I said, settling into the booth. I tucked my feet on the bench to hide my battered shoes from the high-heeled crowd. The maitre d’ casually laid a napkin across my lap first, Bahlin’s second.

“Don’t you care for it?” He settled in and stretched one arm across the back of his side of the booth.

“Sure. Who wouldn’t?”

The maitre d’ bowed and backed away. “Enjoy your meal, sir.” He closed the curtains behind him as he left. Bahlin inclined his head in a very regal way, seemingly at ease in the environment. I was cowed, and disappointed in myself for it.

“So, let’s get this out of the way. Money,” he said, “is not a problem.”

“Did you not hear me earlier? I don’t do charity.” I ground it out between my clenched teeth.

“Do you have a job?”

“No.”

“Have you had a job before?”

Was he kidding? “You took a waltz through my mind. You tell me,” I snapped.

“Having had a job before,” he continued, as if I’d answered him politely, “you should recognize the characteristics of one. The primary being commitment. You’re considering committing to being the Niteclif for the next ten to twelve years. What makes you think you wouldn’t be paid for it?”

“I have no idea what the hell this job entails, Bahlin. You’ve been vague and ambiguous at every turn, answering my questions with your questions and giving me snapshots of weird shit that’s supposed to make me feel better.” I vibrated with energy. Fear? Anger? Frustration. Yes. “Why would I think it pays? And if it pays, I’m sure I’ll be expected to…”

He arched a brow at me. “Stay here” went unsaid.

“Sure you will. How can you conduct inquiries into cases here in the Isles from across the pond?” He toyed with his knife, spinning it on point on the table. “So let’s set this to rights. The High Council has always taken on the salary requirements of the Niteclif. What would you think to be a reasonable amount per annum?”

I mentally scrambled, then shot off a ridiculous salary six times greater than the job I’d left. Maybe I could get fired before I got started. Fired was better than dead, and it sounded like dead wasn’t out of the question.

“Done.”

Now I was the one gaping. “Plus housing,” I added. Why not? “And a private car so I don’t have to depend on anyone.”

“Again, done. You’ll live here at the hotel for the foreseeable future. Of course, you’ll be moved into a more suitable room.”

“Suitable how? And who are you to this place?” I asked recalling not only the maitre d’s behavior but also the desk clerk’s earlier refusal to call security.

“Why, I own it of course.” He grinned wickedly, teeth flashing in the low light of the chandelier.

“Of course,” I whispered. “Do they, the staff, know…” and I tapped my teeth first, then the corner of my eye.

The waiter appeared around the corner of the curtains and I jumped, but he was only there to present the bottle of wine. I looked at Bahlin, chagrined, and he laughed out loud. “The red, as promised.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. This was obviously going to take some getting used to. I ordered without looking at the menu assuming that, in a place like this, if they didn’t have what I wanted listed, they’d come up with it. The waiter didn’t even ask Bahlin if he wanted anything other than the wine.

“To answer your question, yes, the staff knows. More than half the staff are of the same general persuasion. Supernatural, or mythological, take your pick.”

I stared at him, schooling my face into polite curiosity. Inside I was stunned and nervous as hell. “Dragons?” I clenched my hands together under the table hard enough that the bones ground together.

“A few,” he said, smiling gently, “and a number of other flavors.” He leaned forward and reached for my hands under the table, tapping them softly with his fingertips. “Relax. Nothing’s going to happen to you here.”

I unclenched my fingers and made a show of setting them on the tabletop.

“A few other flavors?” I asked in a voice barely above a whisper. He nodded. “How many is a few?”

“That’s an age old question, isn’t it?” He settled into the corner of the booth and cocked a knee up as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Not many in the mundane world realize what we are. Humans, or mundies, have a tendency to see only what they want to see and to go about blind to the rest of their world. There are a few of them who know about us, though I doubt anyone knows about all of us.” He poured us each a glass of wine, and I watched him swirl his in his glass then sniff it.

“More on that later, okay? I need to process this and figure out the details of the job.” My voice sounded hushed in the elegant atmosphere. I closed my eyes and prayed the fear was my secret, not to be shared with the…dragon. I was back to being worried, my thoughts and emotions ricocheting around at breakneck speeds.

Bahlin sipped his wine and looked at me, his eyes appearing almost black in the dim light. “Let me sum it up for you very handily, Maddy.” He set his glass down and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “There are a few things you’ll have to know, and some we’ll have to figure out together because there’s never been a female Niteclif.”

I started to get indignant at the sexist comment, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “There’s no reason to argue—the past is unchangeable. As for your job responsibilities and a few of the perks, your job is to investigate crimes turned over to you by the High Council. The Council is composed of representatives from five supe groups in the Isles—vampires, shapeshifters, which dragons fall under, witches and wizards, faeries and the smaller groups who lack representation in any number.” He paused to see if I’d react to the list of supernatural creatures, but I managed—just barely—to maintain my cool façade. “You will likely, on occasion, encounter unreported crimes and you’ll investigate those as well. You’ll have to live here in London during your tenure though you’ll be paid, and handsomely, to do so. You will meet the High Council tomorrow night, so we’ll have to go shopping to get you some more appropriate clothes, unless you’ve brought something besides jeans?”

I shook my head, mute with fear. Five supe groups? I hadn’t known about one. And how many were not represented in any large number? Thinking of my college mythology class I felt a little light-headed. No, you feel like passing the hell out again.

Bahlin ignored the mental charades crossing my facial features. “Not all of the groups get along. In fact, none of us really like each other much. You’ll have to learn some of the political maneuverings that have kept us well enough to keep from killing each other,” he said, apparently attempting supernatural humor. It was too early in our relationship, and the bottle of wine, for me to even crack a smile. He sighed. “There’s more, but I don’t want to have to help you out of shock a second time tonight. I don’t have the energy for it.”

“Don’t stop,” I whispered. “I want to get the basics out of the way.” Sort of. Not really. My stomach was clenched tight, nausea welling just below my surface of attention.

“Fine. You’ll not age—”

“Say again,” I commanded.

“You will not age,” he said very slowly and with emphatic articulation. He arched a single eyebrow, silently challenging me to panic.

I was going to try not to give in to that fear and prove to him I could handle this.

“So I come out of this the same as I go in. Okay. Go—” I had to stop to clear my throat. “Go on. What about the skills you said I’d inherit, or that I may have already inherited?”

“It’s hard to say, Maddy, but I can tell you what I’ve known of the last two Niteclifs. Your logic skills will improve dramatically, getting better with use, and this will sway how you look at everything. You must have balance there to keep yourself sane.” He looked at me to make sure I was listening. I nodded, and he continued. “You will have a certain innate understanding of investigative procedures, as well as a general knowledge of crime scene protocol.”

He paused, and I nodded again. “Okay. Sounds all right so far.”

“You will find it easier to accept the supernatural world while shunning the human world, walking between both existences. You must work diligently to maintain your humanity and your reality. You can’t afford to lose them or you may not find your way out of this dual existence. But you must be equally active in the world of myth and legend and at the same time always remember that you’re not truly one of our world. It can be dangerous to forget that.”

“Wait. Are you threatening me?” I demanded, setting my napkin on the table and making moves to stand.

He laughed, but it was bitter. “No, Maddy. Sit. But that brings up another point. There are consequences for both failure and success.”

I emulated him by arching a brow.

“Fail to succeed and the High Council can order your execution. Succeed and your enemies can order your assassination.”

I started to laugh and then realized he was serious. “Damned either way, huh?”

“Making it out alive will be the truest measure of success you can have.”

I looked down, resettling my napkin in my lap. I didn’t know what to say. It seemed that to say I was a condemned woman would not have conveyed heavily enough the situation. Bahlin mercifully continued, moving my thoughts on to the next point of consideration.

“You’ll have a basic knowledge of fighting skills, and a sort of sixth sense about things, though you’ll always end up backing that intuition with logic. Listen to your gut because, in my experience, it won’t lead you wrong and your head will get there eventually.” He grinned.

My head was spinning and I hadn’t had enough wine to justify the dizziness yet. I intended to rectify that, especially if Bahlin could resolve a hangover as easily as he could a headache. But wine didn’t seem a fast enough solution. Now a tall glass of whisky—that sounded more promising. I waved my hand in a circle indicating he should continue while I contemplated moving the curtain aside to look for our waiter.

“You’ll be in contact with the High Council on a regular basis, which means—”

“That you should have invited me, old chap.” The curtain parted and Tarrek, First Prince of Faerie, stepped through.